The Identity Chase
by memrylaine
Summary: Two years ago, Frank and Nancy were engaged. Two years ago, he made a decision that broke her heart. They haven't seen each other since. Now, when their missions cross paths, they must both choose which is more important: their mission, or their hearts?
1. Crossing Signals

**Hey, guys :)**

**so, I'll admit it: I'm a little nervous about posting this! A lot of the stuff on here that I've read is so maturely and intelligently written, and I've never written anything Nancy/Hardy before, so this is kind of a new thing for me. :) go easy on me, please!**

**I'm still writing this story, but it's pretty much almost done. I wanted to finish it before I posted it just so I wouldn't have to spit out random chapters at you, but I reallreallyreally wanted to see what you guys thought. So, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!**

**:D**

**And feel free to ooh and ah in the necessary places. :D**

**Disclaimer: Do I own my Red Hot Red fingernail polish? **

**Yerp! **

**Do I own Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys?**

**Eh, **

**....Nope.**

* * *

The woman pulled off the scarf that had been wrapped around her head and shook her long, reddish-blonde hair. The man beside her, reading a newspaper, smiled appreciatively but she purposefully ignored him. This wasn't the time to deal with sexist men, she reminded herself.

The transport was noisy and crowded, with little breathing room and less air to breath. A flash of silver caught her eye, and she whirled around to see the man she was trailing only three feet away from her, the silver skull chain wrapped around his neck.

Her pulse rate threatened to double, but she controlled it with an intense concentration. This was what she had been trained for. This was what she had chosen. She was a professional. And nothing was going to get in her way. Not this man, not any man.

She carefully edged closer, threading her way through passengers until she stood one person away from the man. His hand came up and for a moment she thought he'd discovered her and was about to draw a gun, but she calmed down when he only paused to touch the chain around his neck.

His fingers slowly moved closer to the skull charm and her anxiety returned. She felt an overwhelming urge of desire. She wanted to rip his hands off the necklace, to protect all the people in the transport from this lethal weapon.

The man's thumb caressed the skull, a look of grim determination on his scarred face and the woman knew what would come next. And it was her job to stop it.

She set her jaw determinedly, scarf grasped firmly in hand, and moved closer to the marred man. The people around her were pushing from all sides and a fusion of the smells of urine and sweat hung in the air. She pushed until she was almost directly behind the man.

A teenager with a McDonald's hat and t-shirt stood listening to her iPod and ignoring everyone around her, right where the woman needed to be.

She tapped the girl on the shoulder and when she looked up, the woman pointed to her right ear, gesturing that she'd lost an earring where the girl was standing. The teenager moved, albeit a little grudgingly, while the woman gave her a quick smile. 

_You have no idea how many lives you just saved, sweetheart_.

The woman knelt down on the floor behind the man, pretending to search the grimy, littered floor as she covertly wound one end of the scarf around her hand and slowly stood up.

A bored-sounding voice rang out through the small car. "Transport B-14 advancing to the Portland stop. Please prepare to reach occupancy limit." The doors slid and people began filing into the already-crowded car. A small breeze blew in from the city outside.

In front of her, she could see the tendons in the man's neck tense. He instinctively put a hand on his pocket, where a disc in plastic casing slightly protruded, the one blind spot of the woman. The pocket was too far left for her to see. The action was lost on her, like he'd hoped for all the passengers.

The woman was now so close to him, she practically felt it when his eyes closed as he started to press down on the charm that would activate a bomb, literally blowing the entire transport to pieces…

But suddenly, the silver chain wasn't the only thing circling his neck. A scarf was pulling tightly across his vocal chords so he couldn't speak. A low, feminine voice sounded in his ear. "Take your hand off the skull."

The man grunted and strained, trying to twist around and put an end to this sudden assault, but the transport car was now too crowded for him to move. The man felt his body weakening, and dropped his hand, not by choice, but from sheer loss of strength.

He tried to grab the gun that was strapped to his chest beneath his jacket, but he didn't have enough energy in him to complete the action. The noises from the transport occupants were getting smaller and quieter. Everything was sort of just fading away slowly. He groped desperately at his pocket, the one spot the woman couldn't see. His clumsy fingers found what he was looking for, and he pulled it out of his pocket and just barely managed to press a button, then it dropped from his fingers to the floor, where a man standing beside him picked it up.

The woman noticed the man beside him bend down, but didn't realize why. She narrowed her eyes. One problem at a time.

The scarf was hitched tighter and dark spots started clouding the man with the skull charm's vision. He just barely felt convulsions rack his body. Everything seemed so far away. But one thing stood out in his disjointed, nearing incomprehensible thoughts. A wave of rage swept through him, searing through all the pain and struggle. A strangled cry broke free from his closing throat.

"Nancy…Drew…"

* * *

- _Nancy Drew -_

_______________________________________________________________________________

Her fingers flew skillfully over the keys. Images and text popped up periodically on the screen, their meaning capturing her interest. Nancy Drew sat back in her office chair, staring at the screen in horrified awe. There had been something she had missed.

The disc.

How could she have not seen the disc? She chided herself harshly. She would have to get it back, to prove herself worthy not only to the agency, but to herself as well. She leaned closer to the screen, studying an image of a plastic-cased square. Her eyes narrowed. She had to get it back. She had to _know_.

She clicked on more files, more urgently. The entire disc itself was so complex.

The database she had hacked into gave a short summary that they had intercepted from an attempted transmit from the owner and a certain multi-million-grossing incorporation. Several pictures came up when she clicked on a link that said, "Targets."

A man in his late forties with prematurely gray hair; a woman about twenty years old, with a tattoo of a large skull on the side of her neck…

Another picture popped up. This one took her off-guard, leaving her breathless for a moment. It was of two men. One with curly blonde hair, muscular and wiry. The other was taller, a handsome man with dark features. It almost looked like…

_Oh, my…_

It was.

No, Nancy thought wildly. It couldn't be. They wouldn't be that sloppy. All their pictures had been deleted right after the "accident." There was no way.

And yet…

There they were. The first's face even held his signature amused expression.

And the other…

Gorgeous, handsome, charming as ever. Those dark eyes, that long, lean torso…

Nancy got a strange feeling in the back of her throat.

She knew this man.

This was the man whom she'd fallen in love with, whom she'd considered marriage with, who'd broken her heart when he told her something she'd pretended she couldn't understand but really, deep down, she could. This was the man who had been announced dead to the world. The man who'd disappeared two years ago with his brother into society as deeply undercover agents and had been given the opportunity to tell any one person out of his friends and family and had chosen to tell her. Now, after two years, she didn't know what he looked like, who he was, where he'd disappeared to, why he'd done it…

Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Oh, Frank," she whispered. "Where are you?"

* * *

Frank Hardy lightly tapped his younger brother on the back. "Joe," he whispered, voice hoarse. He hadn't called his brother that name for what seemed like ages. They had been under fake identities for the past two years. The word felt like candy, sweet and forbidden, but delightfully familiar. "Joe, wake up."

The younger Hardy brother tossed and turned but didn't open his eyes. A glistening sheen of sweat covered his skin and his curly blonde hair was wet and matted with blood. He muttered feverishly as his older brother made futile attempts to recover him.

Finally, Frank fell down beside Joe, collapsing in sheer exhaustion. He didn't have any more to give. There was nothing left inside of him. His resolve, his optimism, it was all fading. It didn't work…He and Joe had lost and…They had won…

No! Frank tried to rein in his dark thoughts that threatened to take over. They wouldn't win! He wouldn't let Them!

But he was so thirsty, so hungry, so aching, his whole body aching…

No! Frank fought to regain consciousness. No…no…no… The word echoed again and again like odious poetry. An endless mantra of torture. _No…no…no…_

Frank knew he was too far gone to save himself or Joe. He needed some backup. But who did he have? There was no one now.

The agency couldn't come, or they would be discovered. Maybe a year or two before this, before they had disappeared, he would have had more people than he needed who would have readily come and helped. Now there was only one he could think of, and he wasn't even sure she would help him after what had gone down between them.

He somehow convinced his hand to move sluggishly down to his pocket and pull out his cell phone. He pushed in the ten digits, slowly, deliberately. He knew them all by heart. He just hoped they would work.

When the final number had been entered into the tiny device, Frank paused and closed his eyes, praying fervently that it would go through. He glanced at Joe, shaking and violent coughs racking his entire body. It had to work.

He turned over the phone and slowly, but as fast as his body would move, opened the back of the device. There it was. Looked just like it had the day they'd installed it. He pushed the tiny red button, using up his last ounce of strength. Now he just had to hope, pray, wish that she would get it.

A computerized voice recited what they had programmed it to say.

"Sending emergency signal to…Nancy Drew."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! for that, I give you my love and a handful of Skittles. hehehe.**

**What did you think? Review, please! :D**

**much loves! **

**the one and only ;)**

**-memrylaine  
**


	2. Blast From The Past

**heys everybody. :)**

**Well. **

**Here I am.**

**Sitting on my bed with my sister screaming "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz in my ear. **

**We're havin' good times here...**

**hehehe.**

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**BIG, BIG, BIG, HUGE ANNOUNCEMENT THAT YOU ABSOLUTELY MUST READ --OR ELSE!-- :**

**OUTSIDE JOKES IS DOING A MAXIMUM RIDE FANFICTION AWARDS!!! GO TO www dot mrawards dot yolasite dot com TO NOMINATE AND VOTE! **

**THANKS MUCHLY!**

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**Anywho, here's the next installment for your reading pleasure! Just to clear this up, this is a continued story! not a one/two/threeshot! I'm hoping for at least 20-30 chapters. :)**

**Memrylaine (_in TV Announcer voice): _So here's The Amazazing, Crazy-Rockin', Soul-Shaking, Heart-Stopping CHAPTER TWO!!!  
**

* * *

"Agent Drew?"

Nancy glanced up irritatedly from her computer. She had been knee-deep in the information about the disc and was clearly unhappy about being interrupted. A young intern stood before her, looking a bit apprehensive. She immediately felt a little bad. "Yes?" Her tone was warm, but still no-nonsense. She was a professional, no doubt about it.

The young man shuffled his papers nervously. "Um, Agent Wells wanted me to give you…these." He thrust a bulging manila folder at her. She accepted it with a nod.

"Is that all?"

He nodded, then hesitated. "Well, I—"

"You're dismissed." She turned back to her computer

He tried again. "But, Agent Drew—"

"Intern Banks." She spun around and turned to face him, eyebrows arched. "Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

He smiled weakly. "Actually, I—"

"Ask."

He cleared his throat. "Would you want to…um, go out to dinner sometime? Maybe?"

Nancy put a look of polite disinterest, with just the right amount of regret on her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've just been really busy lately and I don't think I'd have any time for something like that."

"Oh. Oh. Well, alright. I…" He tried desperately to cling to his suavity. Nancy felt a little bad for him.

She stood up and kissed his cheek lightly, amusement sparkling in her eyes. "Thanks for the offer, though." She gave him a friendly smile and turned back to her computer once more, tapping rapidly on the keys. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dazzled intern walk off slowly.

She smirked good-naturedly to herself, then again, focused all her attention on the screen.

The man she had apprehended—she had made sure not to kill him, just immobilize him until he was taken in for questioning—two days ago on the transport had been just as dangerous as she had thought.

Her partner, Agent Rob Wells, had been skeptical as to his role in the assassination of the head of many multi-million corporations, but Nancy had insisted on trailing him that day. She smiled to herself.

She loved proving men wrong.

Most of the guys at the 0-Six thought she was good for nothing but eye candy, depicting from her looks. At twenty-three, Nancy was quite the titian beauty. Long, auburn locks framed her heart-shaped face. Warm, observant blue eyes sparkled with mischief and her full lips were often curved into an impish smile. Her hourglass figure was usually what sold the pretty-girl role.

She narrowed her eyes at the thought. She hated the sexist men. But on the other hand, it just made the satisfaction she got from proving them wrong that much better.

"I know that look." Nancy's head jerked up. In front of her stood her tall, handsome partner, Rob Wells, hands in his pockets, looking as charming as ever.

She saved the information she had gathered on the disc into a high-priority file and clicked on "hide." The file instantly disappeared from view. Spinning around to face Rob, she put an innocent expression on her face. "What look?"

A corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile. "The look you get when you prove someone wrong."

Nancy laughed. "You know me too well."

"High praise indeed." Rob stared at her intensely. Nancy felt scrutinized under his hard stare and looked down at her desk. The words "AGENT DREW" glared up at her from the folder the intern had delivered to her. "What's this, Wells?"

He picked up the folder. "I found some information I'd like to discuss privately with you." His gaze turned Nancy once more and she felt like shivering, but reined it in. "Maybe we could go out to lunch today?"

She managed a small smile. "Sure. Meet you at 11:45 outside the building?"

"See you there."

* * *

Frank groaned, barely holding onto consciousness. It had been over half an hour and still no reply. Maybe she had gotten a new phone and didn't reinstall the emergency signal into it. Maybe the day of the fall-out she'd gone home and ripped it out of her phone. _Or maybe_, he thought, _she just doesn't care._

Joe groaned beside him. Frank slowly, painstakingly lifted a hand and set it on his brother's back. It felt like he was moving through water. "Joe?" Even speaking took so much effort. His voice sounded rusty and broken.

Joe rolled over, his breathing labored, and Frank saw what he really looked like. Joe's eyes were open, unblinking, and glazed over like they were when he sleep-talked. His usually tanned face was pale and blotchy, and sweat coated just about every surface of his body.

As Frank stared at his own reflection in his brother's eyes, the direness of the situation took on a whole new level. Joe was getting worse, and so was he. There was no way they were going to be able to get out of this alone.

The boards in the old, abandoned warehouse creaked with a harsh wind that blew through the shivered and remembered that he had used his jacket and shirt to try and staunch the heavy bleeding from his brother's wounds.

Now he lay bare-chested, shuddering in the wind, lying on the floor, completely wiped out.

Trying to push the thoughts of the bitter cold farther away, he began to think about Nancy.

What a beautiful disaster they'd created two years ago.

Frank bit down on his lip hard when he remembered what he'd forced himself to say to her, forced himself to do to her. She'd left the room in angry tears, and he wasn't much better. But deep down, he knew that she'd known why he'd done it.

Now he could have kicked himself if he had the energy. All the time, progress, love…it had all been wasted. Because of him. He let out a hoarse sigh. If he could only have a chance to see her again. To tell her how he really felt on that day, how he really felt now. He would die for that moment. He truly would.

_That might be a possibility_, he thought darkly.

He lay there for an immeasurable amount of time. Nancy. She was so amazing, so intelligent, beautiful, funny, so…_perfect_. Perfect in every way, perfect for him. If only he could just tell her how sorry he was…

Fatigue snaked its way back through his thoughts, resolve taking the backseat to tiredness. His eyelids fluttered shut on their own account and his last thought before the darkness claimed him was, _Nancy, please, get here soon…_

_

* * *

_"You made it." Rob sounded mildly surprised when he saw Nancy walking towards him, trim black pants swishing at her ankles.

"Why the shock?" She asked, arching a slender eyebrow.

He shrugged. "You seemed a little distracted. I wasn't sure if you'd come." He leaned closer and winked at her. "You know how you get when you're onto something."

Nancy laughed, her long hair blowing around her face. "Oh, do I?"

"Uh huh." Rob checked his watch. "Let's go." He started to raise his hand to hail a taxi, but Nancy grabbed his arm, pulled it down, and raised hers even higher. "Taxi!"

Rob raised his eyebrows at her amusedly. "I see you haven't changed at all, Miss Drew."

She observed him coolly. "I am just as capable as any man, Agent Wells."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright." They got into the cab that had pulled up beside the curb. As Nancy climbed onto the seat, she felt her cell phone vibrating violently in her pocket. She pulled it out just before a computerized voice said urgently, "Emergency signal from Frank Hardy. Emergency signal from Frank Hardy. Emergency…"

Nancy gripped her phone as the world spun and threatened to give out under her. She steeled herself and clicked the button that read "receive." A tiny grid with two dots appeared on the screen of her phone. From somewhere beside her, she could here Rob asking, all panicked, "Nancy? Are you alright?" but words didn't mean anything anymore.

Her mind raced back to the day they had installed the emergency signals. She had forgotten all about it until now. A wave of panic swept over her. What would Frank need her help for? Anger joined the fear. How could he have the nerve to try and contact her now, after two years?

But she pushed the thought out of her head. This was Frank. He wasn't one for joking. Something had to be seriously wrong for him to send this to her…

Then she remembered the picture she'd seen the night before. The one included in the data of the disc she'd lost.

_Oh, no…_

"Stop the cab!" She cried and started to push the door open, but Rob grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip.

"Nancy," He said through clenched teeth. "What is going on?"

She couldn't think straight, couldn't remember what her last name was. "I…uh…"

Rob's eyes cut through her. "Tell me. Now."

She sat there, looking at him but not really seeing. "I—"

"Hey," said the impatient cab driver said. "Is she getting out or what?"

Rob glared at him with a ferocity that wasn't often seen, then turned back to the woman he was holding. Her fist clenched the door handle so hard her knuckles were growing white. "Nancy, you're sick. Let's take you back to the office and get you checked out—"

"No!" Her sudden outburst startled him. She sat there, pale, lips slightly parted. The voice saying, "Emergency signal from Frank Hardy. Emergency signal from Frank Hardy," kept playing over and over, drowning her, pulling her deeper and deeper. "I have to go. It's an emergency."

Rob narrowed his dark eyes. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Nancy. You—"

"No, Rob." She finally regained composure and pulled the car door open, then turned her head around to face him. "Just tell everyone I'm on break, okay? I don't know how long I'll be gone, but…" She smiled wryly. "I'll be back."

Rob watched her climb out of the cab and hail another in deep fascination. She was so complicated. That was what he admired most about her. And that was why he had let her go. She was so determined, so set on it. She was Nancy Drew. And that was why he knew that wherever she was going, she would make it back alive.

He shook his head leaned back in his seat. "Oh, Nancy Drew." A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

* * *

**thoughts? suggestions? HORRIBLY HARSH CRITICISM?????**

**I'm tough! I can take it! **

**REVIEEEEWWW!  
**


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